Musa, Musa, Musa

I’ve been watching my daughters’ Tae Kwon Do class since they started in January. I’ve learned a lot about my children sitting there as an observer. For instance, they’re impossibly flexible. They are also loud and fast and aggressive. I realize I’m not in the habit of describing my daughters with these words.

Earlier this week my daughter’s sixth grade class went downtown on a field trip to Chicago's Harold Washington Library to do History Fair research. While the children were diligently pursuing their assignment, a strange man approached one of my daughter’s classmates and asked her to follow him. She went to get her teacher instead.

I found out about the incident when my daughter called me after school with the worrisome details. She said the whole thing was creepy. There was a pause in our conversation—because, as you can imagine—she was creeping me out, too. But before I could come up with the words to make her (and myself) feel better, she made this statement:

“If anybody ever bothers a friend of mine again, I’m gonna practice my tornado kicks on him!”

Thank you, warrior daughter. I feel better already.